 | Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and minor poems |  |
68
TO M---
1
O! I care not that my earthly lotHath—little of Earth in it—
That years of love have been forgot
In the fever of a minute—
2
I heed not that the desolateAre happier, sweet, than I—
But that you meddle with my fate
Who am a passer-by.
3
It is not that my founts of blissAre gushing—strange! with tears—
Or that the thrill of a single kiss
Hath palsied many years—
4
'Tis not that the flowers of twenty springsWhich have wither'd as they rose
69
With the weight of an age of snows.
5
Nor that the grass—O! may it thrive!On my grave is growing or grown—
But that, while I am dead yet alive
I cannot be, lady, alone.
| Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and minor poems | |